Stupid
by ficdirectory
Summary: Sometimes, it's like this. Sometimes, the only words that register to Brittany are the ones she doesn't want to hear. Everything else gets away from her.


Sometimes, it's like this.

Sometimes, the only words that register to Brittany are the ones she doesn't want to hear. Everything else gets away from her. Assignments. Directions. Conversations, even. More often than not, the glee club ends up laughing at something she didn't intend to be funny. Like, when Mr. Schuester asked for the definition of a _duvet _or a _mallard_ and everyone cracked up. Like, when another teacher asked for the capital of Ohio, and Brittany answered honestly, with the letter O. They laugh or they talk about her. It's like being deaf without being deaf, because even though she can hear them, sometimes, words just don't make any sense. They don't understand how much it sucks to lie in bed at night, exhausted from trying to keep up, and, only then, to realize that Mr. Schue had actually said _duet _and _ballad_ and that the capital of Ohio is Columbus.

So, she lets them laugh. She pretends the teacher's comments don't matter. When they accuse her of not trying hard enough, not taking the work seriously, daydreaming, not focusing, slowing down classmates, making excuses or any of a million other things, Brittany wants to speak up, but can't organize her thoughts fast enough to say anything at all.

But, what she wants to say is this:

"I'm not slow, it's a real disorder. It affects how I process what I hear. Slow down. I don't understand. I can't remember. I'm exhausted. I'm afraid. I'm afraid that what they say is true. That I'll never amount to anything. That I'll keep failing. I'm afraid I'll never graduate high school. I'm not stupid…but I _feel_ stupid."

* * *

Her parents have tried everything. They know it isn't her fault, so they try not to punish her for something she can't help. But Brittany can see it's frustrating for them. When they do everything right - speak to her without background noise, and all the other recommendations the audiologist has made - and she still misses what they tell her.

"We're getting you a tour," her mom says, and she blinks.

"What? Where? I didn't get into any schools…"

Rory tries to jump in and help, but he is the most impossible to understand on her best day, and the air conditioner is competing for her attention. Finally, her dad speaks up. He has a better pace to his speech and is a little louder than her mom is.

"A _tutor_, honey," he tells her patiently.

Oh. That makes more sense.

"But what about dance camp?" It'll suck if she can't go. Dancing is the only thing she's good at.

"You need to get on grade level. Your mother and I dropped the ball with not getting you tested sooner, but you can do this." He sounds sure. She isn't. "Your camp's not until August. So, work hard these next couple of months. School has to come first."

Brittany doesn't say what she's thinking. School has never come first. Before the end of senior year, she stopped trying. Stopped going. What was the use when no one listened? When everyone laughed? When not one person tried to help?

* * *

She's filming the first summer episode of Fondue for Two, all about the hottest cat fashions - when there's a knock at her door. It's just as well since Lord Tubbington's being a total diva. Brittany turns off the camera and walks to the door, pulling it open. "Blaine," she says, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

He comes in, wearing dress pants and a tee shirt. It's the most casual she's seen him. He smiles, and she can't smile back. Apparently, he hasn't gotten the memo about how much Brittany S. Pierce's life is sucking right now.

His smile softens. It's like he has ESP. Like he knows something. "Just here to help," he says. "I definitely want you graduating with me, and I figured I couldn't just sit back and hope for it to come true…" Blaine says, sitting backward in her desk chair.

"Wait… _You're _my tutor?" Brittany asks, incredulous.

"Yeah, I'm in all the Advanced Placement courses, and we're allowed to help our peers as long as we keep our own grades up," he explains optimistically.

"Should be easy for you…" she says sadly. Brittany hates feeling sorry for herself, but this is not how she planned to spend her summer. Her plans included plenty of time getting her sweet lady kisses on with Santana, dance parties, bonfires, and maybe some traveling, not staying home and focusing all her attention on how dumb she felt.

"It won't be _that _bad, I promise," Blaine reassures. "We just have to figure out how you learn best."

"Well, that should be easy…since it's pretty clear every teacher's given up on me…" Brittany sighed. "Besides, isn't today Kurt's grad party?"

"It's not 'til later. And we're not giving up that easily. I know you're an amazing dancer, you're intuitive and compassionate. I'm keeping all that in mind while we do this. I'm not giving up on you, Brittany."

So, that's how they start. Blaine lets her pick what she wants to work on first. She chooses English, because that _should _be easy, considering she speaks English. And Blaine surprises her. He sits next to her on the bed and goes over directions for the first essay a step at a time. He waits until she's completed that, to move onto the next one. When she doesn't understand, he repeats himself. When she gets totally overwhelmed, they stand up. He takes her hands in his and they go over the instructions again, this time, to a rhythm, as if they're counting off dance beats.

And it doesn't fix everything. But it's a little easier.

* * *

They get into a routine. Blaine comes every day at 10 AM and stays until 2 PM. If there's an early grad party, it gets pushed from 2 PM until 6 PM. Sometimes, when Blaine can't make it, Tina takes his place. They each have their strengths. Where Blaine is creative and thinks on his feet, Tina has the patience of one of those nuns or saints. She explains things over and over and never gets frustrated.

One day, at the beginning of July, they're working on something called archetypes for English, again. She's been making pretty good progress, but now she has to watch some Star Wars movie and Brittany really wishes Lord Tubbington were here, to make the time go faster. Movies make her want to fall asleep, because she can't understand anything.

"Brittany? Stay with me on this, okay? You're doing great," Blaine encourages.

"I'm lost…" she admits. The explanation he gave about the different themes had gone completely over her head. "Can you tell me again?" she asks, even though her brain is exhausted and he's only been here twenty minutes.

"Okay. No problem," Blaine says. He's wearing a purple shirt today. It reminds Brittany of unicorns and magic. "The four archetypes are: nominees, savagery, romance and campfires. We're going to watch movies about all of them, but we'll start with…"

She blinks, imagining them watching awards shows, a movie where people went crazy and ate each other, Star Wars - which wasn't romantic at all - and old reruns of the Nickelodeon show _Are You Afraid of the Dark_ for campfires. The last one, she'd be okay with.

Blaine sits down, and straddles her desk chair backward, sitting directly in front of her. "Can you tell me what you heard me say?"

She pauses, trying to collect her thoughts. By the time she has, she's forgotten all about what Blaine's been saying.

"Let's do one at a time. Repeat after me," Blaine suggests, and he says all the words clearly and slowly. Brittany's still sure she's hearing them wrong.

"Nominees," she says, after squinting. Her mom's using the mixer in the kitchen and Rory's singing _Oh Danny Boy_ down the hall. It's too confusing. "Savagery. Romance. Campfires," she repeats everything after Blaine. She's messing this up and dance camp is in a month.

Blaine patiently squeezes her hand, then he walks out of the room and says something. Now that she can't see him, it's worse. He could be leaving for all she knows. Giving up on her. Just like everyone else.

But no. He's back with a stack of post-it notes in different colors. "Okay, watch me," he says. It's easier this time. She notices that Rory's stopped singing and the mixer's not running. This time, when Blaine says the first word, he holds up a pink post-it note, with a word written on it. Not _nominees_, but _comedy. _The second one on a blue post-it isn't _savagery _but _tragedy_. Romance - on green - she's gotten right all along. And the fourth - on yellow - is _satire _not _campfires._

"Okay. So, we're focusing on romance now. Lucky for us, that means movie time." He gets up, puts a DVD in her DVD player, and presses play. He comes back and sprawls out on the bed next to her. Just like that, Brittany is lost again, hearing a confusing jumble of noise. She distracts herself, wondering if she'll be able to go with Santana to Six Flags, counting all the different colored beads in her awesome hippie lamp her grandpa made especially for her, and wondering how on earth she would get Lord Tubbington to stop insisting he's two sizes smaller than he actually is. She needs to get him into the swim trunks otherwise, the entire summer fashion segment will be ruined.

Suddenly, the room is quiet, and Brittany glances at Blaine. "It's done already?" she asks.

"No you just…seemed like your mind was wandering…" he ventures. It's a nice way of pointing out that she hasn't been paying attention.

"Sorry. I hate movies," she tells him honestly. "I find them really confusing…"

Instead of losing his cool, Blaine props his head up with one hand and looks at her curiously. "How so?" he asks.

"Like…there's too much going on, so how am I supposed to know who Luke's father is or how they got into space in the first place or what they're even saying?" She pulls her pillow out from under her and puts her face in it. Her brain is so tired. Between this and summer school, she's never going to want to go back to school in the fall, even with glee club.

"How can I help?" he asks, peeking under the pillow at her.

"I can't hear anything. I mean, I _can, _but it doesn't make sense!" she exclaims.

"Would it help if we just watch the most important scene? I can turn the volume up and turn the subtitles on…" he suggests.

Miserably, she nods. This movie sucks, and the chances of her remembering this part when she needs to are really bad, but Blaine's trying. So, Brittany tucks the pillow back under her head and focuses on the screen. It's a long day, but she'll get through it.

* * *

A week later, Blaine comes in looking terrible. He's in the same clothes he was wearing the day before. He's pale and seems like he might fall over any second.

"Are you okay?" she asks, rushing to his side, and helping him to her bed.

"Listen…I told your parents I have a virus…" he says softly.

"Liar, you're hung over. I've been hung over a lot, so I know all about it. Why didn't you call Mr. Schuester to pick you up?" she asks, curious.

"Britt, first of all it's summer. Secondly, that contract was only until Nationals, and third… Never mind…." he says, seeming to give up and falling back on her bed.

Brittany gets to work, pulling her window shades down, closing her door, and urging Blaine under her covers. "Third, what?" Brittany wonders. Things have been a little weird with Blaine lately. He's been distracted, and not as helpful as usual - which is still really helpful - just not as much for him.

"My dad was with me…" Blaine admits.

"You got _drunk_ with your _dad_?" she asks, incredulous. "That's gross. Why?"

"My parents split up a few months ago. Now that the divorce is final, he's been on me to come to the bars with him…to help him pick up girls. Like a bonding thing…" Blaine moans.

"Bonding for who? You don't like girls…" Brittany points out. "Or does he not know that?"

"Oh, he knows…" Blaine confirms. "He just doesn't care…or he cares about himself more…He always tries to do these guy things with me…I think he wishes I was like him."

"A jerk?" Brittany asks honestly.

"No…straight…"

"Oh."

Silence falls around them. The whole house is quiet since Rory is out with Joe, that girl from school who likes Quinn. Brittany kind of wishes she could have gone with them, but she's pretty sure Blaine needs a friend.

"Does Kurt know? Oh…and I was totally gonna ask why your dad needed your help picking up girls. And then I remembered your dad's probably old like my dad. I help _my _dad lift things all the time," Brittany says proudly.

"Not picking them up literally. Picking them up, like, for a date." Blaine explains sounding sick and exhausted. "Apparently he likes girls about ten years older than we are, so he thinks he needs my help to get them interested…or to know what they like…"

"Ew." Brittany says.

"…And no, Kurt doesn't know. He has the best father in the world. And I don't want to give him another reason to want to keep trying for NYADA or to go after that Chandler…"

Brittany doesn't know what to say, so she goes to the kitchen and comes back with 7-Up and crackers. Then she sits at her desk while Blaine rests, and alternates working on her essay for English, choreography to a Jessie J song and a card for Blaine. She props it up, so he'll see it first thing when he wakes up. She passes time texting Santana, and whispering to Barbie and Ken, telling them to cook dinner quietly, because Blaine isn't feeling good. She finds a crown and a cape and puts them on. She knows what it's like to feel worthless, and wants Blaine to feel like royalty.

It's hours before Blaine wakes up and at first he doesn't know where he is. So Brittany helps him out.

"You're in the magical kingdom of Brittany S. Pierce. You can stay as long as you want. The queen even requests your presence at a sleepover."

Blaine groans something she can't understand and falls back asleep.

"I'll take that as a yes…" Brittany says to herself and gets to work.

* * *

"On tonight's very special episode of Fondue for Two, we have King Blaine - along with me - Queen Brittany. Since Lord Tubbington didn't do a good enough job spying on Rory to see whether he's _really _getting deported back to Ireland to eat all the magically delicious Lucky Charms he wants…I have something else in mind…"

Blaine sits, with a smile fixed on his face, wearing his crown and his cape. He has been a great help in moving things around to give her more floor space, but her room is still tiny. She wishes for a dance studio, but that's pretty big. She'll probably have to save it for her Christmas letter to Santa. Maybe she should send it early. Five months should be plenty of time for him to build one, and for how hard she's been working at school stuff lately, Brittany's pretty sure that she deserves it.

She stands in the middle of her room, and turns on her I-Home. She's mostly choreographed without music, since Blaine has been sleeping most of the time, but Brittany has pretty good instincts. Plus, she likes the flow of improvising movement more than being stuck in one thing. Before she presses play, she takes Blaine's hands and leads him to stand in the middle of the room.

"What are we doing?" he whispers.

"Just trust me," she says, and presses play, letting Jessie J's _Who You Are _fill the room.

She moves stiffly, to the sound of the guitar, and then stops in front of Blaine, mirroring his body posture, his scared eyes, his clenched fists. Then, she puts her hands on either side of her head and squeezes her eyes shut, letting herself feel the confusion that every day brings for her. She uses the cape to cover herself, and feels the crown not as a crown, but a dunce cap on her head.

At the chorus, she wraps herself around him from behind, holding him and then moving around him. Reminding him that what's important isn't what's in front of his eyes, but what he can imagine for his future. She stops and stands in front of him, lacing her fingers through his and just looking at him. Feeling the beat in her body. She wraps her arms around him and they rock back and forth from foot to foot.

Then, the verse starts again. She turns away and toward the mirror on her door. Pretends to be preoccupied with her appearance. She sits and folds her hands, as if she's at school. In seconds, she sweeps out her arms to knock imaginary stuff off a desk. Then it's back to Blaine to lace their fingers together, to dance around him, to remind him of what's really important. At the breakdown, she just lets the music move her, and feel everything she's held inside.

At the final chorus, she stands still, with her hands on either side of Blaine's face, staring into his eyes. It would be kinda hot, but it's not about that. It's about letting Blaine know he's okay just the way he is. The same thing he's let her know, by helping her every day of his summer break. In the end, she takes a step back. She unties her cape and lets it fall to the floor. She takes off her crown and lets it go, too. When she looks up, Blaine is doing the same thing, and then they're both standing in front of each other in sweatpants and tee shirts. Exposed. Plain. But enough.

She turns off the camera and flops on her bed. "I just had to get that out…" she says, breathless.

"You are…" Blaine pauses, his voice full of feeling, and Brittany waits for it. For any of the words he could use to describe her. Hilarious, cute, crazy, hot…but when he speaks, Blaine doesn't say any of those things. "You're a genius, Brittany."

She looks him in the eye and he looks like he means it. He looks like this has touched him. Like it has made a difference.

Maybe she doesn't need to go to dance camp to dance. Maybe she can do it right where she is and maybe she can help people see themselves the way she sees them. Brittany pauses, breathing in the truth of the moment and daring to think that if these things are true, maybe, something else is, too…

Maybe, she really is the opposite of stupid.

_The End._


End file.
